I sat with her talking about the life that is behind her, and the shorter life in front of her. The lines on her face are from experience and wisdom that only pain, heartache, and a mixture of joy can map out. Then, I look down at her socks. My mother’s socks on this day are blue hospital socks. Socks that are meant to warm her feet and compress her swelling, one that chemotherapy and plastic pill containers bring.
About twenty teenagers sit next to us, laughing, flirting, their life and all the possibilities in front of them. Their energy is addicting. I look at my mother’s face and wonder if she feels sadness seeing their youth, with the world at their grasp? Is she reflecting on her life, the end more near than far. It’s a reality that wakes me up in the darkness of the early morning hours with a heavy chest and tears. I say to her, “I love being around teenagers. They give me so much energy. I feel privileged to be an educator and hopefully guide them and make an impact on their lives.” I guess their joyful youth brings to me some realities too.
Her socks always make me smile and bring back a memory. One where I was more in need of her comfort and guidance than she was of mine. A memory that takes me back forty three years. It’s of a boy that spent many days alone, wandering the nearby woods, working his way through the trees to a cornfield and eventually a creek that cows drank from. I would sit and watch them, watching the calves follow their mommas and realizing that everything that breathes depends on their mother at some point for survival. The memory is of a time when she left us to go south. The very thought of being away from her brought fear.
She was packed and getting ready to say goodbye, so I took the opportunity to sneak into her suitcase. I was stealthy in my maneuver. My eight year old hands took a pair of her socks, ankle high, with a blue toe. I put those socks in my pocket and that’s where they stayed. I kept them there for a week. I took them everywhere, to school, on bike rides, walks in the woods, and put them under my pillow at night. It was my attempt to keep her close. I was always connected to her and needed this.
Now I am fifty one and I sit across from her at the diner with kids laughing near us, in their own world. Her blue socks snug on her feet, tucked under her seat. It’s time to go, she takes my arm and shuffles to my truck. We drive back to the rehab facility and sit in her room and talk about writing and art, the things that actually matter, that make life worth living. Her feet propped up to keep the swelling down. She looks like she has been in battle, and I guess she is. One more glance at her socks and to make sure she has what she needs. She grows tired and will write until she falls asleep. Being a writer, I know the space that is needed, so I gently kiss her on the head and leave.
I walk to my truck, put on some Jason Isbell and cry. I’m still her little boy, the one that stole her socks for comfort so many years ago. I realize that she will always be a part of me and I will always have her with me, until my last breaths come and take me away. The thought brings comfort. I roll down the road and smile as I suddenly am thankful that I have had this long to be with her and am grateful she’s my mom. She has shaped me and my siblings. We have to admit, she is the reason for our survival.
I put my mother’s socks back in her drawer when she returned from her trip south. I still remember my reflection in the mirror that stood tall on the dresser. The wavy hair, tired blue eyes, and dimples caving into my little face as I smile and realize she is back home with me.
Our memories will someday fade. Our lives will pass as we are all impermanent, given this brief moment in time to walk this Earth. When the end comes near, when those last breaths trickle from your lungs, what will you be grateful for? Will it be the money you made? The big house and flashy car? Will it be material things that came and went without meaning? The job you hated? Perhaps, if you are lucky, you will think about the love you brought to the world. The lives that you changed and the adventures you took. Maybe you will think about the mountain you climbed, the beach you walked, or the time you made love that was so intense you became lost in her eyes. Hopefully, you will have those around you that were true and never stopped holding you dear. Life is too beautiful to waste. Make it extraordinary!
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